Hot and Cold
by Natmonkey
Summary: On a certain cold night in camp, Bodahn mends a broken heart.


_This is after a suggestion by **Snowybiscuit**. I'd discarded the idea at first, but then the cogs began turning and I managed to come up with a scenario that makes at least a shred of sense. The lady in question has her default given name and looks like her blond, blue-eyed brothers._

* * *

**Hot and Cold**

They are in Denerim now, or camped close to it, at least. Bodahn sighs and shakes his head. He really should visit his wife after all this time on the road, but he doesn't relish the prospect. Things have never been very warm or affectionate between them. In their case, absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder. The woman still resents her husband for having to move to the surface after that little incident with the bracers. No love lost there; the only ones benefitting from this marriage had been the reputations of their respective houses.

It's not that they haven't tried to love one another. Maybe _she_ didn't, but Bodahn tried and tried. There is absolutely nothing at all wrong with her looks; such a pity she is always so cold and distant. The merchant chuckles at the memory of their first wedding night. What a disaster that was. His lovely wife just lay there like a dead fish as he attempted to make sense of what went where. When he finally did work out the mechanics, it was over in under a minute. The underwhelming experience has forever cured him of his curiosity regarding the act. Sex means nothing to him at all.

The only thing that truly means a lot to Bodahn is contently snoring on the bedroll beside his. Sandal may not be the best conversationalist by the campfire or the best at cooking them dinner, but he is a good boy. His heart is in the right place. That is all that matters. The fact that he knows his way around runic enchantments doesn't exactly hurt either. Wearing a fond smile, the merchant pats his foster son on the shoulder. The boy's eyes flutter open; after showcasing a sleepy, toothy grin, he dozes off again. Bodahn's heart swells with affection.

He sighs. Perhaps he should go for a little walk and clear his head. That might help him find sleep easier. Wrapped in his thick cloak, the dwarf ventures outside. It's cold enough to freeze the testicles off a brass monkey. He will probably never be used to these surface temperatures. Orzammar was always so toasty warm. The camp is quiet; the Wardens must have given up on patrolling the place at night. Or not. A series of dull thuds, interspersed with muffled curses, attract his attention. Bodahn silently makes his way to the source of the sounds.

The Grey Warden formerly known as Princess Aeducan, late King Endrin's pride and joy, appears to be in the process of punching down a tree with her bare fists. Her facial expression is one part rage and two parts grief. Tears stream down her cheeks as she continues pummelling the rough bark. There is a distinct crack every time her fists connect, pieces of wood flying off every which way. Finally the Warden sinks to her knees, clasping her bloodied hands to her face. Silent sobs shudder through her frame.

The sad sight tugs at Bodahn's heartstrings, but he doesn't really know what to do. In the end he decides he cannot simply walk away from her. He approaches; she is too caught up in her pain to notice his presence and freezes when she feels his hand on her shoulder. "My lady?" the merchant ventures tentatively.

The Warden looks up at him and tries to smile. "Oh, hello…" Her voice is thick and weepy. "You shouldn't be out and about at this hour. It's very late." She winces as her companion carefully grasps her hands. Bodahn will not fall for her obvious attempt at distraction.

"You must get this cleaned." There are splinters imbedded in her flesh – the knuckles are raw and bloody, tatters of torn skin hanging off them. "Shall I wake your healer?"

"No, Wynne needs her rest." Lady Aeducan's rosy lips curl into a forlorn smile. Her grief, whatever the reason, has softened her normally so stern features; the merchant is struck hard by his sudden realization of her beauty. "I have a few medical supplies in my tent. Will you help me, please?"

"Of course." While Bodahn is picking splinters out of the Warden's hands by lamp light, he steals the occasional glance at her face. She is enduring the no doubt painful treatment like the hardened fighter she is. All rumours he has ever heard about the young woman sing of her exceptional skill in battle: her expertise with a giant axe, the overwhelming strength of her blows, the nimbleness of her feet. Her ruthlessness, slaying her own brother in a bid for the throne, also has many a tongue wagging. No rumour, however, has ever spoken of her large, soulful eyes, the colour of an icy lake, or the natural redness of her full lips. Or even the husky, melodious sound of her voice. Lady Aeducan must be one extraordinary warrior. "Might I ask what is wrong?" asks Bodahn without thinking. He could just about kick himself for it. Surely she won't want to confide in some stranger, even if they have been travelling together for many months now.

For a while, the Warden keeps quiet. She chews her lower lip in a decidedly attractive manner. "I…" She sighs. "Back in Orzammar, my second and I were in love. When I left to join the Wardens, he said he would wait for me in Denerim." A lonely tear rolls down her cheek. "Today I finally meet him again, after all this time, and that nug-humping bastard tells me he got married to someone else and they're even expecting a child." Lady Aeducan looks away, chuckling under her breath. "Guess that was the straw that broke the bronto's back."

"What a fool," Bodahn murmurs as he gently applies a layer of salve to his fellow dwarf's injured hands. He feels a burning sensation in his cheeks as soon as the words have left his mouth. "Uh, I mean…"

The Warden laughs through her tears. "You're very sweet to say that." The sadness in her eyes becomes tinged with curiosity. "Doesn't your wife miss you, now that you're with us all the time?"

"I don't think so." The merchant wraps a bandage around his companion's knuckles, making sure it feels comfortable. "My wife and I have never been very close." He says it without any resentment or bitterness. Simply the statement of a fact.

"And you don't miss her either?" Lady Aeducan shoots him a pitying look when he nods. "That is awful." She dries her tears on her sleeve.

Bodahn shrugs. "It's just the way it is."

With a sly smile on her lips, the Warden scoots a little closer to Bodahn, who immediately begins sweating for some mysterious reason or other. When ever did it get so hot? "Well, _I_ think you're wonderful."

He looks at her in surprise. "Really? No offense, my lady, but I don't think you know me very well." Even so, he can't help blushing. Not many compliments tend to come his way.

"Don't I?" She chuckles – the sound of it sends a shiver down his spine. "I see the way you treat Sandal. Caring for him must take a lot of love and patience." Holding up her bandaged hands, she shows him a sweet smile. "And these. Thank you." Bodahn is only halfway through telling her that she is welcome when she pounces. "How about I show you some proper gratitude?" she huskily whispers into his ear, her considerable weight pressing down on his body. The pressure is far from unpleasant.

"M-my lady!" he protests weakly. "If you mean what I think… I can't." The icy glare of Mrs. Feddic comes to mind. "I told you I'm a married man." He is tempted though – so very tempted. This lady seems to know her stuff. Suddenly the idea of sex doesn't seem so uninteresting anymore. But no, he shouldn't. He couldn't. Could he?

Lady Aeducan shrugs. "So? If you don't even care about each other, why should you save yourself for her?" She sits up and blows a lock of golden hair away from her forehead, exasperated. "Aren't you just aching for a good tumble? I know I am."

Now it is Bodahn's turn to shrug. "Not really, no." He colours crimson under her probing gaze. "I just don't care for it." Although earlier this would have been the truth, it now feels like a blatant lie.

"Don't care for it?" she repeats incredulously. "Now I've heard it all." Shaking her head, she laughs merrily. At least she doesn't seem very sad anymore. Her laughter comes to an abrupt halt. "You're actually serious." Her pale eyes study his face. "So… Are you into men?" The Warden cuts off his sputtered denial with another attractive laugh. "What else could it be then?" Slowly she loosens the laces of her shirt and lets the garment slip down her shoulders. Her comely, round shoulders.

"Well, I, uh…" The merchant is having great trouble finding words. And forming coherent thoughts. "I don't…"

She grins triumphantly as she slides her shirt down to her waist and reveals her ample bosom, hidden behind a flimsy breast binder. The fabric is so thin, the dark tinge of her areolas shines right through. Why would she even tolerate such low quality? Bodahn discards it as another one of those feminine mysteries. His breath catches in his throat, watching her reveal the slightest and most enticing bit of cleavage. "You like what you see, don't you?" Her voice is utterly beguiling. The lady shifts, landing her behind on a very rigid part of his anatomy; her triumphant grin widens. She has her answer right there. Lady Aeducan bends over him, her heavy breasts against his chest, and whispers: "Just you wait until I'm done with you." The promise in her words makes him even harder than he already is.

Her lips are only a hair's breadth away from his; a fire is burning in her eyes. The merchant considers denying her, but she is right: why should he remain loyal to a wife who cares so little for him? His trembling hands move to his companion's shapely shoulders of their own accord. The skin feels so velvety soft that Bodahn has to bite back a delighted groan. "M-my lady, I-…"

"Please," she purrs. "Call me Sereda." Briefly her lips brush against his. "Now you know what to scream later." And with that, she kisses him with more fierceness and passion than he's ever thought possible. Her tongue immediately snakes its way into his mouth. She doesn't kiss him, she _attacks_ him. Assaults him as if he is a fortress that must be stormed and conquered. Bodahn has never been more turned on in his life. Her hands make short work of his tunic by ripping it to shreds; she even destroys his belt, which is of very thick and sturdy leather.

The merchant is acutely and painfully aware of the slight paunch he has grown while on the surface, often enjoying more than his fill of fine food and drink. Sereda, against all expectations, crows in delight as she strokes his belly. "So soft!" She elicits a gasp by lightly biting down on his flesh. "You remind me of my favourite doll." A delighted look is on the Warden's lovely features as she reaches up and gives Bodahn's cheek a light pinch. "Except that you're so much cuter." At this comment his face nearly goes up in flames, which amuses Sereda to no end. The blushing gets worse now she is working on his trousers in a slow and deliberate manner. She whistles at the sight of his exposed length, proudly standing at attention for her. "Mmm, very nice…" The moment those rosy lips touch him there, poor Bodahn nearly passes out. That soft, pliant feel of them, pressing a row of kisses down his throbbing shaft... The merchant props himself up on his elbows to watch. Lovely Sereda fixes her eyes on his, her little pink tongue darting out for a taste.

She is positively purring with delight as she licks his rigid rod, eyes half-lidded, then takes him between her lips. The moist, warm sensation combined with the sight of accompanying activities are more than the man can bear. Bodahn sinks back into the pillow with a groan and closes his eyes. He revels in those delicious sensations, until they abruptly change. The spectacle to which he opens his eyes is as if from an intensely erotic dream. Sereda has trapped her companion's cock between those glorious breasts of hers – their covering is nowhere to be seen – and is rubbing them up and down, her tongue lapping at the head whenever it peeps out. The spectacular orbs envelop him in a soft, velvety warmth, the wetness of her saliva ensuring a smooth glide. It is too much. Jets of pearly fluid erupt all over her face before he can warn her.

In the heat of ecstasy, Bodahn is too far gone to care. He tangles his hands into her locks and cries out her name, over and over again. So what if anybody hears them? This is the most fun he has had in years. Only half-recovered from his recent pleasure, he hears Sereda laugh: "Your turn now." Everything goes dark before his eyes. Dark, wet and warm. Fragrant. The merchant hesitantly touches his tongue to the sweet pussy hovering over his face and is rewarded with a little gasp. She tastes delicious. The more of those juices he laps up, the more she moans and squirms. The girl squirms the most and moans the loudest whenever he touches a certain hard, round nub.

Determined to repay the lovely Warden, Bodahn grips her fleshy hips to steady her. Sereda may be a tough, strong, muscular warrior, but she is soft in all the right places. While he gives her pleasure point a thorough tongue-lashing and drinks her in, the merchant revels in her delighted squeals and praises. Why can't his wife be like this? The glacial temperature of her gaze comes out poorly in comparison to Sereda's smouldering eyes. Her cool, unwilling flesh contrasts unfavourably to his companion's warm, inviting body. The more he thinks about it, the angrier he becomes. The movements of his tongue become perhaps all too vehement, but this doesn't seem to bother Sereda. She lets loose with a piercing scream, grinding herself against his face and bathing him in her delectable juices.

Bodahn, meanwhile, has managed to get his rising anger in check. This is not the time for such matters. Most tenderly he coaxes Sereda off him and onto her back. She is still sighing in bliss as he slides into her. It takes considerable effort to push in; her wet walls cling to him with a vice-like grip. The Warden wraps her strong limbs around Bodahn like ivy. With every gentle thrust, she cries out and clutches him more tightly. The merchant focuses on her pleasure and her pleasure alone. Surely the poor girl deserves it after getting her heart – the only part of her that seems to be made of less sturdy stuff – broken like that. When she utters an unfamiliar name, Bodahn pauses and wonders who this Gorim might be. Sereda buries her face in his neck and sobs quietly, her shoulders quaking. But of course. "I'm sorry," she hiccups with averted eyes as he raises himself to look at her. "I didn't mean to-…"

"If that man had had any sense in him, he would have waited for you," Bodahn cuts her off. His fingers softly caress her cheeks, until her grief-hazed eyes meet his. "You're more than worth it." All awkwardness between them is gone, all shyness abandoned. The desire to help this wonderful woman overcome her pain is what drives him now. Softly he kisses away her tears to stop them from flowing. It doesn't take long for them to do so. Sereda locks the merchant in her arms with a relieved sigh and he continues his lovemaking, slowly and gently, as if they have all the time in the world.

Perhaps this is not entirely to the lady's liking, because after a while, she lands herself on top in one smooth and sudden movement. Bodahn watches in fascination and mounting arousal, while she rocks her hips against his in an ever increasing rhythm. Dishevelled strands of gold dance around her shoulders; her head whips back every time he is fully buried inside of her, a delighted moan rolling off her tongue. Some would perhaps be put off by the clearly visible ridges of her abdominals or her bulging biceps or the swelling muscles in her thighs, but not this dwarf. Especially not with the way her bodacious breasts bounce.

Bodahn reaches out to those ripe fruits, ready for the picking. He moulds the soft, velvety flesh in his hands, plying her hard nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Sereda once again calls out a name, a different one this time. The merchant is proud to have accomplished this, even if it makes his cock swell just a bit more inside of her and brings him closer to the finish. His right hand leaves her breast to travel lower, searching a certain nub to play with. Bodahn won't be able to hold out much longer – if he gets to have his mind blown again, then so should she. He pulls down the woman on top of him, massaging her pulsating bump and claiming her lips in a passionate kiss. His hips rise to meet hers with every push. The lady utters a surprised little whimper.

Somehow the merchant manages to hold off, until she tears her mouth away from his and shrieks out her climax. His name falls from her lips again and again. The way her cunt contracts around him and profusely exudes cream soon proves to be his undoing. Growling deep inside his throat, Bodahn paints her twitching walls with his seed. Fireworks go off behind his eyelids; when he finally opens his eyes again, stars sparkle around the edges of his vision. Sereda smiles down on him, an expression of infinite satiety on her beautiful face. After blowing out her lamp, she joins him on her bedroll. The two snuggle up to each other under the covers, still breathing heavily.

"I don't get it," Sereda muses, her fingers absently playing with her lover's beard. "How does your wife not love you to bits?" Yes, why doesn't she? Having recovered some of his basic functions, anger begins bubbling in Bodahn's gut again. Doesn't he send the woman plenty of money? Doesn't she live in a house fit for a noblewoman? Doesn't she wear the best silks and furs he can get his hands on? The Warden, probably sensing his mood, soothingly strokes his arm. The anger soon ebbs away.

Bodahn shrugs and pulls Sereda into his arms. "I don't know." It's a mystery. Perhaps his wife is incapable of love. Perhaps she hates him, though he can't think of a reason why.

"Thank you for being so sweet and patient." The Warden's lips easily find his in the dark. "Anybody else would have been out of here as soon as they heard another man's name…" Sereda softly laughs to herself. The lovely lilting sound of it reverberates in her companion's stomach.

The possibility of indignantly storming out of the tent hadn't even entered Bodahn's mind. "I just want you to be happy," he says after some deliberation, blushing at his own candidness. It's the truth though.

"You're all about customer satisfaction, aren't you?" his fellow dwarf giggles. "Seriously though…" Her voice is instantly devoid of laughter; only something that sounds like shyness remains. "I think that with your help, I might well get there." She cuddles up to him, her face buried in his neck. "I still don't get it," she murmurs lazily, just before sleep claims her.

Neither does Bodahn. And now he doesn't care either. Smiling from ear to ear, he joins his sweet Sereda in slumber.


End file.
